


It Happened One (K)Night

by Iwantthatcoat



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ( due to lingering drug effects), ( it is Jim writing after all), ( this does not happen but may be triggering for those who have experienced this), Anal Sex, Anxiety, Condom non-use/removal, Deliberate attempts to trigger, Doggy Style, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Fear as aphrodisiac, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Shared cigarettes/smoke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 23:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11263251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwantthatcoat/pseuds/Iwantthatcoat
Summary: For the Thereal_Moriarty Collection:"It Happened One Night” by thereal_moriarty. Featuring Sherlock Holmes/Henry Knight. Sherlock comforts a terrified Henry, comfort sex, sex with the lights on, sex with the curtains open, exhibitionism, making animal growls during sex.Jim writes RPF featuring Sherlock, specifically designed to make him miserable. And to make Jim very very happy. This is a sheriarty in disguise with digs at Sherlock throughout.





	It Happened One (K)Night

.

 

"Oh.... Mr Holmes?" Henry had been surprised by the knock-- a staff member had discreetly escorted Sherlock Holmes to just outside the threshold of his bedroom door before making himself scarce.

"Sherlock is fine, Henry. After all we've been through, we could stand to be a bit less formal. I was concerned...about you. And since I am a poor sleeper in any case, I thought I'd stop by to see how you were doing."

Still weighing out whether it was better to be pitied or lonely, Henry answered the question. "Pretty far from sleep, but... I mean, it's all over. I should be fine now, shouldn't I?"

"Well, you will be. Fine. Both of us will be. We just need to... ride it out." 

_Checking on on me just to be polite._ Mr Holmes.... Sherlock... hadn't meant it to sound like a double-entendre (his mind was just playing stupid tricks on him)-- or had he? Henry frowned. The drug, still lingering in his system, was looking more and more as if it had other effects besides inciting fear. He kept finding himself focusing on Sherlock's lips as he talked, and tried to keep his mind on the words coming out of them instead of their fullness, or how those lips were better suited for... other things. He forced himself to listen carefully to the words themselves and not lose himself in the timbre of his voice. 

"We can, perhaps, help each other through this process. After all, we have something in common, I believe."

Henry sighed. "I've just been forced to remember a horrifying event from my childhood, and I turned a _person_ into a dog, because I just couldn't cope. I'm pretty sure that's the definition of pathetic. No one could possibly have anything in common with me."

He searched Sherlock's eyes for a glimpse of compassion submerged somewhere deep beneath that cold exterior and thought for a brief moment he saw something hidden there. _Well_ , then. Perhaps still waters run deep. He tried not to look down, not to take in the rest of him: tall, lean, eyes a fierce, blazing turquoise-- the color of rushing streams deep within the Canadian wilderness of Henry's youth, even the scent of him, so...manly. 

He wanted to fold himself into Sherlock Holmes. Be held, reassured, comforted.

Sherlock returned the penetrating gaze, intensified it, wrinkled his strong browline and said, "Cigarettes?" 

_Ah. Common vices._ That was what he was after. Why he was really here instead of sleeping soundly at the Cross Keys with his...partner? lover? to ease away any lingering fears. For all the money Henry had, that had always eluded him. Still, this would do. If Sherlock Holmes just wanted a cigarette, Henry would have someone with him, even if it was for just a short while. But.... He frowned again. "I haven't been off the grounds since I came back from London, and I haven't been so much as out of this room since the.... I've been afraid to leave. The staff set food at the door. It's as if my entire estate is now reduced to what is basically a hotel room." He sighed. "I thought your...friend... doesn't like it when you smoke?"

Sherlock scoffed.

"Not your friend, then? Just an assistant? I thought you were...I thought you were lovers, to be honest.... I..."

"No. John is straight, and tells me so at every conceivable opportunity. I, however, am not. Neither are you, judging by your visual assessment of me just now." Sherlock stepped closer. "And as for the something in common, I meant that we have this drug still coursing through our veins, not only stimulating our fears, but also wearing away our inhibitions, increasing our adrenaline, pulse rate...along with a lingering aphrodisiacal quality... and here we are, both with no one to share it with."

"Except...each other?" Henry looked at him shyly. Something was stopping him from taking a step forward. Anxiety. He glanced toward the closed curtains, not able to shake the sensation that that _thing_ could still come for him at any moment. Waiting for him to let his guard down and then breaking through the large sliding-glass window and ripping both their throats out the moment he started to undress...just like in some b-grade horror movie. He felt his pulse quicken at the thought. 

He needed a moment to collect his thoughts. _If only I still had_... "Wait. I have a..." he crossed the room and dragged a travel bag out of his closet. One cigarette left. Still tucked away in his suitcase. He held the prize aloft.

"You smoke. I'll... inhale," Sherlock rumbled. Placing the last cigarette between his trembling lips, Henry lit it, and Sherlock came in close, inhaling slowly, his forehead finally resting against Henry's cheek.. "Mmmm. Exhilarating and calming at the same time. Not many activities have the capability of being both."

Henry smoked regularly, but he had the distinct impression Sherlock must be continually henpecked by Dr Watson in their shared flat, hastily grabbing an occasional cigarette on the sly to avoid his notice. He was chasing the scent around his neck now and, in a gesture equal parts erotic and compassionate, Henry exhaled the smoke toward Sherlock. "I can only think of one," he replied.

Sherlock buried his face into the side of his neck and inhaled deeply, moving up to his ear, lips grazing the sensitive skin behind it. Henry gasped. "I'm... I haven't..." 

Sherlock smiled softly. "Henry, I think I have enough practical knowledge for the both of us. We were all blushing virgins once, just waiting for someone who would know what to do but wouldn't be put off by our lack of experience. Someone who would say it was all fine, and guide us through the journey. Who'd let us investigate at our own pace. It's not as if we have known each other for years, were best friends, lived together-- it isn't as romantic and perfect as all that-- however, the fact remains that you are unattached, like me." Sherlock licked his lips, "And it can still be...very good." Sherlock went to the bedside table and, instead of turning off the switch and leaving them alone in the darkness that hangs between late night and early morning, turned on yet another light. "Relax, Henry. Here. Sit. Finish your cigarette." Sherlock sat on the bed and tapped the space beside him. 

Henry sat close, took a drag, then took a deep breath before abruptly grabbing the back of Sherlock's head and plundering his willing mouth. A welcoming groan, a tongue, seeking out Henry's in a rush of nicotine and lust. Henry offered Sherlock the rest of the cigarette, and he declined-- choosing Henry's mouth again instead. Henry crushed the remnants hastily in the ashtray and pushed Sherlock down on the bed with renewed confidence. They were both hard, both wanting. Sherlock had his hands on Henry's hips, anchoring him as Henry blinked for a moment and examined the man beneath him. Sherlock gestured with his head toward his own shirt. "I think perhaps I should take this off?" Henry nodded, but looked with far greater uncertainty at his own shirt, forcing himself to disregard the pull of the window.

This time, it was Sherlock who looked outside. "Still afraid? Don't be." He leaned forward to claim another kiss. "The only thing that's going to bite you... is me." Sherlock let out a low growl and gave Henry a soft kiss on the side of his neck, with just a hint of teeth as he pulled away. Henry trembled in a heady mix of lust and fear, and Sherlock scanned his face methodically and smiled. "Better, but I don't want you too distracted. That just won't do. You still think something will burst through those huge windows of yours, don't you? Maybe I should just... open them." 

Sherlock slid out from beneath Henry in a single, graceful motion and stood beside the bed. "Nothing could sneak up on us then. With the interior lights on, anyone just passing by could see _in,_ too. Could stop. Linger." Sherlock drew out the 'l'. "We'd see anyone approaching from far off, of course...but.... " 

Now at the window, he threw the blinds open with dramatic flair. "Right in that hedge, over there. Someone. Some _thing _could watch us. They would be jealous, Henry. The monsters out there. They would want you. But not as much as I do. I want to keep you for myself. And I would have to become the biggest monster of them all."__

__Sherlock removed his shirt before climbing back onto the bed and growled low again, slinking forward, the motion of the shoulder blades beneath his skin captivating. "Those chills? Are they fear? Or excitement? Or both?" Sherlock stopped, straddling Henry with his arms, then shifted to unbutton Henry's shirt with measured precision. "You think you want soft, gentle, slow... but sometimes, just the right amount of fear can be an excellent fuel."_ _

__He licked a broad stripe up the center of his chest, with Henry first balancing himself on his elbows, then reclining backward as Sherlock advanced. Once he finally ended up on top of him with Henry flat on his back, Sherlock stopped and pushed his hips into Henry's. Neither of them had removed their trousers, but it did little to hamper the contortion of Sherlock's features and the gasp from Henry as their cocks pressed together. Another lick, starting between Henry's nipples, as Sherlock's tongue travelled up Henry's neck, pausing to suck gently at his Adam's apple before giving another soft bite just centimeters above it. "I will still be gentle. I won't hurt you, But you aren't theirs tonight, Henry. You will _know_ that you are mine. You haven't done this before, no, but in some ways, you and I are just alike."_ _

__Henry did nothing but breathe for several seconds. Sherlock traced his index finger slowly along his cheek and down to the edge of his mouth. "Henry?"_ _

__"I'm here. I'm here, Sherlock." His voice grew stronger. "I'm... Yes. I'm fine. More than fine. So...so much more."_ _

__"It's okay to still be a bit scared, Sherlock. On your stomach."_ _

__Henry obeyed the command. Sherlock ran his finger down Henry's spine._ _

__"What do you have?"_ _

__It took Henry a moment to process what he meant; Sherlock clarified before he could answer. "For personal use."_ _

__"Some lotion, I think. I don't generally think about hav--"_ _

__"I have a limited selection, but it will suffice."_ _

__Sherlock went to his suit coat and removed three travel-sized containers of differing lubricants, then returned two of them to the inner pocket, keeping the third. From his left pocket he pulled out a condom and then a second one, should it be needed. He folded his jacket delicately to conceal its contents once again, while Henry shifted on the bed to watch. "Stay exactly as you are, " he commanded-- there was no need to raise his voice._ _

__"Lubricant...and...condoms," he conspicuously placed those inside the side table drawer and continued, "should we need them. The lubricant is always helpful." He neglected to mention the fairly short (but wide) plug, clamps, bondage tape and various other accoutrements located in his jacket's inner pockets. He never travelled without a small stash--always more than he needed, though he had come here with a fairly clear idea of precisely what would be necessary. "Now, rise up a bit." Henry raised himself to his knees. "And these need to come off. Mine as well, but not just yet. No, just keep facing forward. I'll take them off."_ _

__Sherlock removed Henry's trousers and pants and smiled at the sight of him kneeling forward on all fours. He conformed his body to Henry's and ran both hands across his nipples, lingering on them with a light touch until he felt Henry relax into him. The steady warmth and comfort approached a full-body embrace, and they remained there for a long moment with Sherlock's head resting gently on Henry's back. It seemed as if he could almost hear Henry sigh (and possibly he had). Then Sherlock abruptly shifted the dynamics, cupping Henry's shoulders from beneath and shoving his body forward so his cock was now wedged between the sides of Henry's arse. There was not a stitch of clothing nor so much as a drop of lubricant between them, and Henry could feel the full length of Sherlock's cock hardening as he rubbed it along the crack. _When... how... had this happened?_ Henry must have been momentarily spellbound by the comfort of someone else's skin against his. At some point, Sherlock had removed the rest of his clothing, and now with each pass Sherlock is growing harder and hotter and Henry finds himself losing more and more control. _ _

__Henry frantically reminded himself that Sherlock had said he wouldn't hurt him, had shown him the lubricant, the condoms, and he could only assume he intended to use them any moment now-- but he hadn't reached for the side table. Maybe this had been a tremendous mistake, this impulsive lapse in judgment. _No._ No, he was fine. He looked down at himself. He is actually very hard-- truly, nearly uncomfortably, hard. He wants to touch himself, but doesn't dare. _ _

__Sherlock was rumbling again, that noise that sounded so much like a growl coming from behind him, and then Sherlock pushed forward and bit the junction of his shoulder and neck. Now Henry was the one making noises, a whimper, a grunt, and yes, something quite like a low growl, too. "God, yes, please...I need you to....to...."_ _

__Sherlock rocked forward again. His reach was long enough to hold Henry in place as he grabbed the lube from the table, coated his hand in it, and wrapped it around Henry's cock before dropping the bottle to the bed. Now, with each back and forth motion, Sherlock's lubricated hand moved in tandem with his body._ _

__"Not about what you need. About what I decide you can have." Sherlock picked up the pace, and Henry clutched the sheets. When he was bucking beneath him, Sherlock stopped. He grabbed a condom from the table and took his time putting it on while Henry caught his breath. "Just a brief intermission," he said._ _

__Henry wasn't thinking about the window, or the demons chasing him. His thoughts were only of how much he wanted to come, as Sherlock slicked up his cock and resumed rubbing himself along Henry's arse. "I wonder how long it would take, until you get desperate and back yourself onto me. Have you tried this by yourself, Henry? Once or twice, maybe? Just to see what it feels like? It isn't quite the same thing. We all know there are places you can't reach on your back. And that cold, rigid plastic hardly compares to warm, pliable flesh. Have you tried, though? Tried and faltered when you got close? The pace, the angle-- always something, isn't there? Not with me. Sometimes it takes two."_ _

__Sherlock watched his struggle before finally grasping Henry's cock and stroking slowly. With his other hand, he ran a lube-coated finger down the length of Henry's body. "You know where this is going." Henry only breathed harder in response. He slowed down, pinched Henry's nipples, then traced swirls into the hairs of his stomach, leaving a trail of smooth lubricant before pushing the finger deep inside him without warning. After a moment's adjustment, Henry ground backwards. "Oh, yes. I know what you want."_ _

__He continued to stretch him wider, wider still, before resuming his back and forth motion, then grabbed Henry's cock again, loosely-- the movements too irregular to give Henry any satisfying rhythm. On the fifth pass across his hole, Sherlock lined up and relentlessly pushed himself inside. He moved forward, increased the force, the depth, wrapped himself around Henry and dwarfed him with his broad shoulders. He fucked him until he convulsed, and then he fucked him some more. It was quite close to a howl, the sound Henry made, as Sherlock stilled Henry's shaking body with an immobilizing arm wrapped tightly around him from hip to shoulder, and spent himself in three hard thrusts. They stayed locked together, perfectly still, until the thrumming of their hearts finally slowed._ _

__"Consider this your reward. For the visit to Baker Street, for letting me play the game I live for, for rescuing me from the ordinary. Thank you. Henry."_ _

**Author's Note:**

> You might have noticed a few mistakes in here. They are Jim's, not mine. Unless you noticed some that I *didn't* do on purpose. In that case, they are mine, not Jim's.
> 
> Comments always welcome!  
> Thank you Iris-Wallpaper and the Antidiogenes folks for their betaing and support...and to all involved in developing this fantastic concept.


End file.
